


In Another World

by jargedcoffee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Feels, Heavy Angst, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Possible Character Death, just feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 23:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14658723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jargedcoffee/pseuds/jargedcoffee
Summary: When Castiel heard Dean’s prayer, he started running as quickly as he could. The prayer was a mixture of longing and yearning, coupled with something Castiel was surprised to hear: fear. Dean’s prayers were often filled with anger, frustration, and maybe even a tinge of sadness and pain. But fear? That never came with the package. Dean rarely showed fear, and he would never communicate it so strongly, so viscerally like that.Castiel knew it in his bones. Something was wrong. Very wrong.





	In Another World

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Possible MCD, No Plot - Just thoughts and feels. Heavy Feels.  
> Summary: In which Castiel realizes what could have been with Dean Winchester. If only.  
> Notes: This is my first ever fanfic! :D Let me know what you think please. Feedback would be amazing <3\. Questions? Comments? Check out my tumblr: https://jargedcoffee.tumblr.com/ Also, this isn't exactly your regular kind of fic. If you're expecting a full on story, I'm sorry to disappoint you. It's mostly experimental, so let me know what you think maybe?

“Cas - help.”

When Castiel heard Dean’s prayer, he started running as quickly as he could. The prayer was a mixture of longing and yearning, coupled with something Castiel was surprised to hear: fear. Dean’s prayers were often filled with anger, frustration, and maybe even a tinge of sadness and pain. But fear? That never came with the package. Dean rarely showed fear, and he would never communicate it so strongly, so viscerally like that.

Castiel knew it in his bones. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

He ran through the abandoned concrete building, trying to find Dean. They had chosen to separate earlier at a junction, which Castiel now regretted. Racing through the derelict furniture, he passed by cement pillar after pillar. Only dim moonline shone through the cracks in boarded up windows, making it hard to find markers of where Dean could have gone.

He stopped himself at an open area, with only concrete columns and furniture long since abandoned. That was when he saw it: blots of red tracing the floor around a corner.

Castiel ran and turned the corner with angel blade in hand, preparing himself for whatever monster he would have to face this time.

As he turned the corner, Castiel _wished_ it could have been a monster. He has seen more than his fair share of horrific sights in the eons he had been a soldier. Nothing should stop him in his tracks. But this - this was different.

_Somewhere out there, in another world._

The smell of copper and iron permeated the room. This was not the first time he had smelled blood, but it seemed as if every little molecule assaulted his senses, slowly tearing him up from the inside.

Because there he was - Dean - the man whom Castiel had saved from the pits of hell so very long ago, sprawled on a slab of concrete glinting red. Blood emanated from a knife in his chest, pooling at his sides, staining his plaid shirt, and dripping onto the cement floor. Castiel found the scent of blood overwhelming. His vision whirled.

In spite of this, Castiel snapped out of his stupor and rushed over to Dean, his knees buckling under the crushing weight of the scene before him. Every footstep he made resonated in his ears. _Thump._ There was no time. _Thump._ Run. _Thump._ Faster. With all his might, he willed his ash-laden wings to bring him to Dean’s side, but he was quickly reminded that they served no purpose these days. Desperation began bubbling up inside. Why couldn’t he fly? Why couldn’t he run more quickly?

“Dean,” was all Castiel could muster as he fell to his knees at Dean’s side. He seemed so peaceful like this, as if he just decided to lay down and sleep for a little while. But this was no comfort to Castiel. His neck began shaking just as his heart began tugging harshly at his chest. He had rarely ever felt this before - this agonizing, creeping dread that the unthinkable was about to happen. Or even worse yet, that it had already happened.

There was no room for error.

Castiel placed two quivering fingers on Dean’s forehead. He pressed down ever so gently, but with a firmness that belied the panic welling up inside.

Nothing.

It was all blank. His mind would not cooperate. Knowing that he did not have much time, Castiel’s heart began beating faster and faster, feeding into his fear - a cruel cycle of being afraid and not being able to use his powers.

He could just imagine Dean saying, “Get it together, Cas!” in his mind. He was a soldier. He had fought wars many men had never even dreamt of seeing. Castiel had never let fear overtake him before and he would not let this be the first time.

He tried again. In a second, Castiel’s body was suffused with grace, and his hand exuded a silvery blue sheen. Castiel assured himself that he would not fail - that he was not too late. At this very moment, his thoughts mattered little, but he needed every ounce of hope he could latch onto. If there was ever any moment that truly mattered, it was this.

_In another world, those hands would be used to hold Dean’s._

He tried again. And again. And again. Each time he felt his grace reach a void - a dark, consuming emptiness that almost seemed to be gripping Castiel too. He felt it the first time, and the second time, and the third time. In the depths of his mind - in that faraway voice at the back of his head - he knew what it meant: he was too late. But he chose to forget that, because this was Dean.

Castiel was an angel. From time immemorial his sworn duty had been to bring about miracles. Would he fail Dean Winchester, the righteous man, once again? Would he fail to bring back this soul that shone so brightly it was almost blinding? Castiel longed to see that glimmer again. No. Failure was unacceptable. Indeed, soldiers fall in every battle. But this - this was different.

Because this was Dean.

This was Dean and Castiel was failing him. If only he had arrived earlier - if only he had run faster. If only he still had his wings. If only he had been more powerful. If only he could do something right _for once_. Castiel recalled all the times he had failed this man, but damn if he would do it again. Not this time.

There, beside Dean, Castiel sat down. He clasped his hands together. And he prayed.

_In another world, his prayers would be answered._

He prayed for a miracle. This angel, who has listened to the prayers of men in need for thousands of years, now needed a miracle. It was almost poetic in the cruelest sense of the word, but surely God will hear him out. God will listen to him for he was Castiel, and he had always held great favor with God. Even though he had never understood why, nor could he ever grasp what made himself so special, Castiel had to believe it. He needed God right here, right now.

“Bring him back.”

Seconds passed.

“Please. Bring him back.”

Minutes passed.

“Please. Please listen to me.”

He prayed with all his might. Truthfully, it didn’t even make sense because God could either hear him or he could not - or he refused to. To pray harder makes no difference, but Castiel had to try. He had to try, because this time, this time was different.

That’s when Castiel saw it. The ever so slight purpling at Dean’s neck. The first step in the human body’s degradation - right as the blood begins to pool in areas of the body without the heart’s beating to pump it. Castiel felt his heart beat faster again and his teeth began to hurt. He had never felt fear like this before, where it seemed as if tiny little electric currents were forming around his mouth, reminding him of his failure.

_In another world, he would feel the same way, not out of fear, but out of love as he laid his eyes upon Dean’s smile._

Castiel was an angel. He was born to guard what God created, to use his grace for bringing life. He should have protected Dean. It was his duty and to fail again was absolutely unacceptable. Not again. Not this time. Not with Dean.

Especially not with Dean.

“Bring him back.”

He said it again and again. Bring him back. Bring him back. _Bring him back._ His words sputtered out without rhyme or reason. Why was God not listening? Bring him back. _Bring him back._ His hands clasped harder each time, reddening under the pressure. How could God forsake them again after so long? _Bring him back._ His nails gripped so tightly it dented the skin of his hands. Where was God? How could he have left them? How could he let this senseless loss of life happen? How could he let Dean leave? More than that, how could he let Dean leave them as a dying ember than in a blaze of glory? Why here? Why now? “Please. Bring him back.” Castiel’s voice shook as he said those words, his desperation ringing in his ears.

Nothing.

God had failed them again. And in the senselessness of it all, Castiel felt his eyes well up.

_In another world, he wouldn’t have to bring him back. Dean was already there. Always._

The tears flowed, but he did not whimper. He did not make a sound. Dean would have wanted Castiel to stay strong. He would have wanted him to hold his head up high. He would have wanted him to keep fighting. To make the world a better place. To be there for Sam, for Jack, for Jody.

But all Castiel wanted was for Dean to come back.

Because there are so many things he never said, so many thoughts he never shared, and so many moments that were lost in time and never celebrated. A fog overcame Castiel’s mind, overwhelming him with confusion, despair, and anger. He did not understand how this could have happened. More than that, he refused - refused to understand - how Dean Winchester, the man who has survived impossible odds, the man who seemed almost invincible at times, was right here in front of him.

Dead.

It just could not be. Castiel would find a way, but not yet. There were too many things running through his mind, too many memories replaying in front of his eyes.

***

_“Oh no, man,” Dean sighed. Castiel was confused about whether he had said anything wrong. Thankfully, Dean’s face was quite expressive. His eyes crinkled as he looked at Castiel, forming little lines at their sides. Castiel had never noticed that before. He thought it made Dean look...happier somehow, as if his eyes were smiling too._

_“This whole industry runs on absent fathers. It’s the natural order,” Dean explained, shrugging as he did so. Castiel realized just how gruff this man’s voice was, almost with a grunt at each syllable. He looked behind Dean and saw the pink hallway lined with doors. Each one was slowly opening as women were coming out, hoping to see what all the screaming was about._

_Yes, Castiel had gotten a lap dance from a prostitute named Chastity. Yes, perhaps he saw into her thoughts for a little bit. And maybe he even told this complete stranger that her father did not run off because of her, but because he hated his job at the post office._

_But why would that cause her to start pushing and shouting at him while running down the hallway? Castiel was certainly perplexed at this behavior. Humans really did not make sense sometimes._

_“We should go. Come on,” Dean said as the guards began approaching. He placed his hand on Castiel’s arm and gently dragged him towards the door under the exit sign._

_Dean’s hand was warm, Castiel thought. It was almost comforting._

_As they exited, they found themselves in the strip club’s back alley. The moon was shining brightly above the street lamps, lighting up the alley with a misty silver. Castiel was still slightly confused about everything that had just transpired. He looked to Dean for affirmation of his confusion, but instead he found him laughing._

_“What’s so funny?”_

_Castiel was perplexed. Dean continued laughing as he bent down with his hands on his knees, trying to collect himself. Clearly, what just transpired fit into his definition of “fun”, but Castiel could not understand why._

_After a few moments, Dean stood straight up and looked at him, still chuckling. Castiel had never heard Dean laugh like this before. Thus far, most of the moments they have shared were ones of danger, of frustration, or of ominous dread. Seeing him this free, this joyful, Castiel felt something well up inside of him. What was this feeling? He had certainly never felt it before. It seemed to be a combination of warmth, yearning, with a tinge of fear._

_His heart beat faster._

_Dean placed an arm around Castiel’s neck, and the latter could not help himself from smiling too._

_As they walked down the back alley towards the Impala, Dean said, “Oh nothing”. He hooted for a moment, out of breath, then added, “It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed that hard.” Castiel smiled with him, his teeth bare. It was strange, but he could not control himself. This feeling welling up inside of him, what was it?_

_Dean approached the driver’s side of the car, and happily added, “It’s been more than a long time. Years.” Castiel noticed Dean’s smile slowly fade away after saying that. The moment was over._

As he sat beside Dean, Castiel wished he had heard that laughter more often. There was something about it that made him feel right at home every time.

But looking in front of him, he knew. He knew he might never hear it again.

***

_“I - I have money.”_

_Castiel placed his purchases and a bunch of crumpled dollar bills on the glass counter. The cashier was still looking at him like he was the devil, which was quite ironic, but Castiel could forgive him. He had been following Castiel around the store for the past 10 minutes, cleaning up after his messes: the refrigerator of beer he had left open, the egg he had cracked and spilled onto the floor, and the shelf of chips that he had toppled over._

_The whole situation was quite embarrassing. However, this feeling could not overshadow the guilt that was weighing heavily on Castiel. He felt awkward going on this bunker supply run, but he had to because Dean was angry at him. Truly, it was his fault for not trusting Dean enough with the angel tablet, which led to Castiel taking it away and losing it himself. It was a big loss, and when Castiel apologized, Dean brushed it off._

_To be more specific, Dean’s exact words were: “You can take your little apology and cram it up your ass.”_

_Castiel’s eye twitched as Dean said that. It felt different to be on the receiving end of Dean’s displeasure. It felt...horrible, as if he had never failed so miserably in his whole life. He had to do something - anything to make it up to Dean._

_Castiel looked up at the products hanging by the shelf behind the cashier. His grocery list ran through his head: Busty Asian Beauties, beef jerky, eggs, tissue, beer, and pie. Wait, where was the pie? This was the most critical part of this mission. Dean would sulk at Sam for forgetting to bring pies from supply runs. What more for Castiel?_

_He looked over to the steeled glass case to his right, on top of the counter. It said “Homemade Pies”, but there were none. No. This cannot be._

_“Where’s...the pie?” Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, bracing himself to hear the unthinkable._

_“Think we’re out,” said the cashier nonchalantly. Castiel felt his rage engulf him. He could not control himself. How dare they not have pie? This was a convenience store, was it not? Why did it suddenly feel so...inconvenient?_

_The gall. The utter blasphemy of it. Dean would not approve of this. Castiel had to find a way to get pie._

_That was when Castiel grabbed hold of the cashier’s collar, forcefully pulling him towards the counter. He would not dare fail at this simple supply run._

_“You don’t understand. I need pie.” Castiel emphasized each of the last three words. He needed to make this boy understand how important this pie was to him. The boy inhaled two quick breaths in succession, slowly registering what just happened. It was working, Castiel thought. He wished he did not have to resort to this, but Dean needed pie, and Castiel needed his forgiveness._

_“Put the virgin down, Castiel.”_

_There was no mistaking it. That was Metatron’s voice right behind him. “We need to talk,” he added._

_Castiel never got to bring his peace offering back to Dean._

It was ridiculous, Castiel thought, but he realized now that he may never have another chance to bring Dean a pie, a magazine, or a beer ever again. What he would give for another chance to apologize to him. For his failure. For all his shortcomings. For everything.

***

_“It’s a gift. You keep those.”_

_Dean’s words echoed through Castiel’s mind as he sat down at his desk, placing the black mixtape on the varnished mahogany table in front of him. After turning on the table lamp, he examined the tape thoroughly, tracing its outlines with his fingers. Written on the front in blotted, black ink were the words:_

_“DEAN’S TOP 13 ZEPP TRA XX.”_

_Castiel knew that Dean loved Led Zeppelin. Whenever the conversation turned to music, Dean would often bring up Led Zeppelin, and in car rides, it sometimes felt like he drifted exclusively between five of the band’s albums. Dad’s music, he called it._

_Castiel got up from his chair and walked towards a cabinet in the corner. He had listened to a little bit of the tape before, but for the most part, he could not comprehend the lyrics. There were too many cultural references and metaphors that he was simply not familiar with, which made him think that he would not make good use of the tape._

_That is why he attempted to return it to Dean, who immediately retorted with his “it’s a gift” line._

_He might as well continue listening to it, he thought, as he opened the cabinet and found the portable cassette player on the bottom shelf. He had asked Sam for this when Dean first gave him the tape. Luckily for Castiel, Sam was more than happy to show him how this contraption worked._

_Castiel walked back and placed the cassette player on the desk as he sat down again. Opening the desk drawer on the right, he took out a pair of cheap, black earphones and plugged them into the cassette player. He then settled down on his chair, and pressed play._

_A guitar started playing along to what seemed to be a rhythmic tapping sound. Castiel knew a little bit about instruments, but he wondered what that sound was. It almost felt like someone was tapping a finger on his left ear._

_“Leaves are falling all around. It’s time, I was on my way”_

_Dean played this song quite often. Castiel knew what it was called: “Ramble On.”_

_“Thanks to you I’m much obliged, for such a pleasant stay”_

_The singer’s voice crooned each word beautifully, Castiel thought. There was almost a certain wispiness to it - a thin, delicate quality. It left Castiel wondering how Dean, a man who would often portray himself so strongly, so aggressively, identified with this song. Of course, they had known each other long enough for Castiel to know Dean had a soft side to him._

_It was strange. Suddenly, listening to this tape felt like an invasion of privacy, as if Castiel were peeking into Dean’s inner thoughts without permission._

_“For now I smell the rain, and with it pain, and it’s headed my way.”_

_The drums came in and the song began its chorus. Castiel tried his best to grapple the words. It definitely felt like an invasion of privacy, but Dean_ gave _him this mixtape, and even after trying to return it, Dean asked him to keep it. That was permission enough, was it not?_

_“I’m goin’ round the world, I got to find my girl.”_

_At those words, Castiel found himself sinking into his chair, like a weight was suddenly placed on his chest. He thought of Dean. He thought of whether Dean was happy and whether he ever felt lonely._

_He thought of whether Dean truly believed that he would never want a normal life. To leave the hunting life, to find a lover like the man in this song wanted to, to have a family. And suddenly Castiel found another emotion bubbling to the surface. Listening to this song, he found himself feeling empty, like something was missing, like he longed for something more than the endless grind of saving the world._

_It was not an unfamiliar feeling though. He would feel it whenever he was out on a mission, far away from Dean, from Sam, from his family. He would feel it whenever he left the bunker to be elsewhere, perhaps in heaven, or wherever his travels would take him._

_And he would feel it dissipate as soon as he felt Dean reaching out to him. That familiar sense of longing, yearning. Sometimes there was anger and frustration, but there was always longing. Always a sense of wanting Castiel back. And Castiel would be happy, knowing that when he came back, Dean would be waiting for him. It did not matter whether he got an earful for leaving again or for too long. What mattered was that Dean was there, and if Dean was there, all will be well._

_Castiel then found himself hoping that Dean would never turn to a normal life. No. Stop. That was a horrible thought. Of course, he should want what was best for Dean. He should want what would make Dean happy._

_But if Dean ever left this life, if Dean ever found a woman, if Dean ever had a family, there would no longer be a place for Castiel. He might never feel Dean’s longing - that yearning - again. Perhaps they would see each other now and again, but it would never be the same._

_“How years ago in days of old, when magic filled the air”_

_“‘Twas in the darkest depths of Mordor, I met a girl so fair.”_

_“But Gollum, and the evil one crept up and slipped away with her.”_

_Castiel found himself back in reality, away from his thoughts, as he realized that he did not understand that reference. He remembered watching a movie with Dean that had a place called Mordor, and he remembered a character named Gollum. He could not understand, however, why Gollum would slip away with the fair girl in the song, and neither could he remember who “the evil one” was supposed to be._

_He would have to ask Dean, but now was not the time. They had to figure out how to find Kelly. More importantly, they had to figure out how to deal with Kelly and her child once they had found them._

Castiel realized now that he never got to ask Dean. He never got to ask him what those lyrics meant, and now that he thought about it, there were so many things he never got to ask Dean. Did he ever feel lonely? Would he ever retire from hunting? Would he ever want a normal life?

Would he always have a place for Castiel?

Castiel would probably never have asked either way. But right now, all he could feel was the weight of his unanswered questions crushing him like a pebble. There were so many questions, and now there was no more time. He promised himself that if Dean came back, he would spill out every single question he had. No more waiting for the right moment and no more wasting time. Never again.

***

God had still not answered.

Castiel brought himself closer to Dean. Beside the man he loved, and thought of nothing other than how meaningless it all was - wishing that he could hear that laugh one last time, wishing for Dean Winchester to rise up and hug him again, wishing for a few more moments to say goodbye.

No matter how hard his life became, or how earth-shattering the next situation he found himself in was, Castiel always had Dean to come back to. Dean would be there at the end of the day, sipping beer in the bunker while making him watch another Western movie, laughing candidly as he explained the references to him, making him feel like he was...like he was home. Saving Dean was the greatest good Castiel had ever done for himself, because truly, it never happened that way. It was Dean who brought him to life.

Now, Dean was gone. Castiel counted his own breaths. _One, two, three._ He then breathed in the cool, still air around him, preparing himself to speak what would be his final words to Dean Winchester, the man who saved him.

“I wish I could go with you.”

If only he’d said the things he’d always meant to say. If only he were an angel of more words. If only they’d had more time. If only.

_Because somewhere out there, somewhere out in the vast expanses of space and time, there is another world. A world where Castiel said what needed to be said. A world where he could hold Dean’s hand. Where he could look upon Dean’s smile and feel both his and Dean’s heart beat so swiftly as they embraced. Where his prayers were always answered, because Dean was always there. Always. Where he would have all the time in the world to hear his laughter, to bring him pie, to ask him about Led Zeppelin. Where he could profess his boundless, endless love without fear and without restraint._

_Somewhere out there, in another world, Castiel and Dean Winchester are lovers, bound not by blood but as kindred spirits. And Castiel would see that soul shine brightly everyday as he said the words:_

_“I love you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I brought my headcanon of Castiel feeling Dean’s longing to life. I know this is not so canon-compliant, in the sense that angels can’t just go ahead and visit souls in heaven. I mean, that’d be too easy wouldn’t it? Also, I’ve always found the idea of multiverses so emotional. And this just kept resonating in my head. So I wrote it up. I literally couldn’t sleep until I did.
> 
> Questions? Comments? Check out my tumblr: https://jargedcoffee.tumblr.com/


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